


keep time on me

by tanyart



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 16:10:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14358969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: Tonight, though, he’s not hanging in some seedy bar or tucked away in a corner of a room. He’s got no drink, and his body isn’t a sleep-deprived mess for once. It’s quiet in his room, so dark and still, and for the past few days he has been trying to find something new to fall asleep to.





	keep time on me

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the tumblr repost. This was a longer oneshot of a series of shorter drabbles, Wake Up Calls. (A lot of the sections too short for how I keep my AO3, lol.) You can find the rest [here](http://lyricalt.tumblr.com/tagged/fic%3A-wake-up-calls). Thank you!

Sleep doesn’t come easy for McCree. It never has, though he’s stopped being frustrated by it a long time ago. Insomnia is a puzzle on nights as quiet as this one, but his two favorite remedies have always been either at the bottom of a bottle or the sheer physical exhaustion of too many unrested days. The only problem is occasionally having to wake up with his face plastered to a dirty table or slumped in a chair that would make his back hurt something fierce when he stands. Sometimes, it’s both.

Tonight, though, he’s not hanging in some seedy bar or tucked away in a corner of a room. He’s got no drink, and his body isn’t a sleep-deprived mess for once. It’s quiet in his room, so dark and still, and for the past few days he has been trying to find something new to fall asleep to.

McCree thinks he might have found it now, resting his head over Genji’s chest. He hears Genji’s soft heartbeat through the synthetic mesh and he knows that if he turns his head a little more, he’ll feel the faint pulse and scarred skin over his cheek. He doesn’t move, on account of the beard, and waking Genji will ruin his silent counting.

McCree is used to counting. He has timed enough shots and explosives to know how long a second truly takes without looking at a watch. A nonsensical thought flickers in the back of his mind; there might be a ticking metronome in his head, the constant  _click-click-click_  always keeping him up.

He loses his place, listening to his internal clock. Genji sleeps on, head tilting away, but he has his arm around McCree. McCree finds himself drifting, weary of the imaginary counting game he’s made up. So instead, he simply listens.

Genji’s heart beats slow, much slower than a single second. McCree can feel it, and the restless part of his mind relates it to how long it’ll take for him to reload Peacekeeper. It takes one heartbeat with moments to spare, which doesn’t seem quite right. McCree reimagines it again, fingers twitching against his side to mime the motions, and finds that he ought to be able to reload three times in the span of one heartbeat to the next.

The seconds aren’t aligning as well as they should. McCree takes the full minute to count, and Genji’s heart only beats twenty-four times. He has seen people eventually die with a heart rate that slow, trickling down to zero with his fingers to the pulse point at their throat.

A part of him wishes he’s never counted. McCree lifts his head, gently as he can, but the movement makes Genji open his eyes.

McCree stares down at him. He feels ridiculous for being unsettled, and that he can’t quite explain to Genji why he’s staring for so long.

(Two of Genji’s heartbeats, six of his own. Too many seconds of silence.)

McCree’s gaze slips to the side, watching the rise and fall of Genji’s chest—quicker, now that’s he’s awake, but still steady and relaxed. It reminds McCree of the way Genji breathes while meditating, deeper, not so shallow like in his sleep.

Genji makes an inquisitive noise, eyes still hazy and unfocused. His hand trails over the back of McCree’s neck, prosthetic fingers tangling with strands of his hair.

“Was listening to your heartbeat,” McCree says, and he’s mortified to admit it.

Genji doesn’t catch his tone, too drowsy to pick up on the implications, both damnably complicated and laughably simple at the same time. His exhale is a low, rumbling hum in his throat. “It’s slow.”

“Very,” McCree confirms. He bows his head beneath the pressure of Genji’s palm.

“I was told it is because there’s less of me, of my body—the blood does not have to circulate very far,” Genji says, pausing to yawn. He seems to struggle a moment for a better explanation, but in the end he only smiles a little and buries his face into McCree’s shoulder. He says, voice muffled, “Also, I am very athletic. They have slow heart rates, you know?”

“I’m willing to bet yours is even slower than that,” McCree says, moving his arm to better fit around Genji.

“Then I am very,  _very_  athletic,” Genji says. He shifts to one side, peering up at McCree. The fingers in McCree’s hair pause in their idle brushing. “Does it bother you?”

“That you’re very,  _very_  athletic? It has its perks, I suppose.”

“Funny. No, I meant my heart. Does it bother you?”

“Your heart,” McCree repeats, and he can’t figure how if Genji is trying to pull a clever double-meaning from his phrasing, but even this level of teasing doesn’t seem like something Genji would do, forcing a confession from the both of them. He goes for the practical answer; “It ain’t anything you can control if it beats slow like that.”

Genji’s hand at his cheek coaxes him to lower the rest of the way down. McCree gets his head back on the pillow, nudged into place by Genji pressing close. The fingers at McCree cheek drops down to his shoulder, palm resting over the left side of his chest.

This time around it’s Genji looking down at him, propped up on one elbow as he considers McCree with a sleepy gaze. Maybe it’s a blessing that Genji is so tired. McCree doesn’t think he could handle Genji with all his sharp wit or annoyed little barbs, but it’s equally as threatening to have Genji so unguarded.

Genji mumbles something under his breath, more noise than actual words, but his hand puts a gentle pressure over McCree’s own heart.

“You have been so careful with listening to mine,” Genji says. His brow furrows, unable to feel the heartbeat through his prosthetic palms. He eases down, draping himself carelessly over McCree, and puts his ear to McCree’s chest instead. “You have me curious about yours.”

“I’m alive, if that’s what you want to know,” McCree replies, wry. He stills when Genji’s silent breath of laughter flits over his skin, warm and then cool. It takes a moment to register Genji’s habits as familiar, everything from his comforting weight to his casual touches. It takes McCree by surprise, the way he can quickly settle. Quieter, he admits, “…Might be going faster than usual.”

Genji only curls up against him, mumbling some more; “Then relax, and I will keep count for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> _[twitter](https://twitter.com/tanyart)  
> _[tumblr](http://lyricalt.tumblr.com)


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